I am afraid, however, that I consider that your usefulness in the Service is no longer very great.'
Alban looked at him with astonishment.
'But would you have gone under the circumstances?' he asked him.
'I should.'
Alban shrugged his shoulders.
'Don't you believe me?' rapped out the Governor.
'Of course I believe you, sir.
But perhaps you will allow me to say that if you had been killed the colony would have suffered an irreparable loss.'
The Governor drummed on the table with his fingers.
He looked out of the window and then looked again at Alban.
When he spoke it was not unkindly.
'I think you are unfitted by temperament for this rather rough-and-tumble life, Torel.
If you'll take my advice you'll go home.
With your abilities I feel sure that you'll soon find an occupation much better suited to you.'
'I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, sir.'
'Oh come, Torel, you're not stupid.
I'm trying to make things easy for you.
For your wife's sake as well as for your own I do not wish you to leave the colony with the stigma of being dismissed from the Service for cowardice.
I'm giving you the opportunity of resigning.'
'Thank you very much, sir. I'm not prepared to avail myself of the opportunity.
If I resign I admit that I committed an error and that the charge you make against me is justified.
I don't admit it.'
'You can please yourself.
I have considered the matter very carefully and I have no doubt about it in my mind.
I am forced to discharge you from the Service.
The necessary papers will reach you in due course. Meanwhile you will return to your post and hand over to the officer appointed to succeed you on his arrival.'
'Very good, sir,' replied Alban, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
'When do you desire me to return to my post?'
'At once.'
'Have you any objection to my going to the club and having tiffin before I go?'
The Governor looked at him with surprise.
His exasperation was mingled with an unwilling admiration.
'Not at all.
I'm sorry, Torel, that this unhappy incident should have deprived the Government of a servant whose zeal has always been so apparent and whose tact, intelligence and industry seemed to point him out in the future for very high office.'
'Your Excellency does not read Schiller, I suppose. You are probably not acquainted with his celebrated line: mit der Dummheit kampfen die Gotter selbstvergebens.'
'What does it mean?'
'Roughly: against stupidity the gods themselves battle in vain.'
'Good-morning.'
With his head in the air, a smile on his lips, Alban left the Governor's office.
The Governor was human, and he had the curiosity to ask his secretary later in the day if Alban Torel had really gone to the club.
'Yes, sir.
He had tiffin there.'
'It must have wanted some nerve.'
Alban entered the club jauntily and joined the group of men standing at the bar.
He talked to them in the breezy, cordial tone he always used with them. It was designed to put them at their ease.
They had been discussing him ever since Stratton had come back to Port Wallace with his story, sneering at him and laughing at him, and all that had resented his superciliousness, and they were the majority, were triumphant because his pride had had a fall.
But they were so taken aback at seeing him now, so confused to find him as confident as ever, that it was they who were embarrassed.
One man, though he knew perfectly, asked him what he was doing in Port Wallace.
'Oh, I came about the riot on the Alud Estate. HE wanted to see me.
He does not see eye to eye with me about it.